


HaruMichi PWPs: The Ficlet Collection

by fortythousandth



Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortythousandth/pseuds/fortythousandth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title basically says it all. Long story short, on a whim I decided to try my hand at writing porn. I solicited people on Tumblr to give me prompts and these ficlets are the result. Haruka/Michiru all the way, various circumstances surrounding each one, expect only rudimentary plots.</p><p>Prompt 1: Water Sex<br/>Prompt 2: Public Sex/First Times<br/>Prompt 3: Oral Sex With A Strap-On<br/>Prompt 4: Bondage<br/>Prompt 5: SilMil Phone/Communicator Sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**FICLET 1: Where I Unravel**

**Prompt: Water Sex**

* * *

 

“You’ve done an admirable job, really, for your first time,” Michiru says, “although I should have expected no less from an athlete of your caliber.”

Haruka, still maintaining a death grip on the side of the pool, does not feel remarkable in any way, shape, or form. But she forces herself to pry the fingers of one hand off the concrete, going for a devil-may-care wave. She has a reputation to uphold, after all. “I’m fine,” she says with all the self confidence in the world, casually flicking her hand in the air. This is, of course, a good idea in theory; in practice, however, it throws her off balance just enough, and before she can straighten herself out, she bobs sharply.

All of a sudden she’s half underwater, with a mouthful of chlorine and stinging eyes and rushing ears. She tosses her head, trying to get herself above water, but it’s weighing her down, pressing all around her, until—

“—just stand up!” comes Michiru’s voice from behind her, a steady arm wrapped around her waist, and Haruka’s not quite ready to open her eyes but—hey, there’s air again! She spits out a mouthful of water and takes a greedy gulp of her element. Her throat is burning and her nose is probably running and she’s well aware that soaked hair is a really poor look for her, suddenly thankful that her back is to Michiru. Something fuzzy hits her face, and she recognizes the scent of Michiru on the towel as she starts sponging the water out of her orifices.

“Really, Haruka, if that happens again, just stand up,” Michiru says again, slightly less frantic but obviously concerned. “We are in three feet of water.”

Dry enough, Haruka runs a hand through her hair (it’s so HARD to get the windswept look in wet hair, whose idea was water anyway) and carefully twists to face Michiru. “I’ve done an admirable job?” she says, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Michiru, though, nods, gently plucking the towel out of Haruka’s hands and tossing it onto the concrete behind them. “Extremely. You’re conquering your fear. You don’t think that’s admirable? Here, use your hands to steady yourself again.”

Obeying Michiru, Haruka, back to the side of the pool, braces herself with her hands. “I shouldn’t even be afraid anyway,” she mumbles. “It’s just water…” She realizes, suddenly, that Michiru is still holding onto her, and they’re nearly face to face now. “Um,” Haruka says, feeling herself start to blush. Well, she supposes that all the blood that OBVIOUSLY had not been in her head when she had nearly let herself drown two seconds earlier had to have gone somewhere, although she hadn’t really anticipated it to go…there, per se.

Michiru leans in a bit closer. Her eyes are the same blue as the ocean and Haruka idly thinks that water isn’t the only thing she could potentially drown in, not if Michiru keeps hovering so close. “You’ve put up with a lot today,” she murmurs, settling her hand to get a solid grip on Haruka’s hip, and Haruka can’t help but twitch her hips up at the touch, her heartbeat speeding up.

Michiru raises her eyebrows. “Oh?” she says. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Haruka bites her lip. “Weren’t you going to teach me to swim?” she forces out, doing an unreasonably decent job at ignoring the sensation of Michiru’s fingers splayed across her hip, lightly stroking her hipbone, starting to work their way beneath the waistband of her swimming shorts…

“We could swim, I suppose,” Michiru says, lazily trailing one finger beneath the waistband of Haruka’s shorts over to her center, “or we could—”

“Come here,” Haruka forces out. She’s not letting go of the pool wall, oh no, but it’s the last straw and she needs Michiru. As soon as Michiru’s close enough, she’s on Haruka, kissing her hard, slipping her knee between Haruka’s thighs and angling up and Haruka has to choke back a yelp.

“You look so good in a swimsuit,” Michiru murmurs, resting her forehead against Haruka’s and tangling her hand in the short hair at the back of Haruka’s head. “It’s such a pity that the world had to be deprived of this vision of you for so long.” Her chest presses up against Haruka’s as she nips hard at Haruka’s collarbone.

“Michi,” is all she can manage as Michiru trails her lips up Haruka’s neck, swipes her tongue along Haruka’s jawline, and she can feel the heat starting to coil in her abdomen, can feel her own desperation starting to mount. Michiru tugs Haruka’s head forward and kisses her again, this time rougher, more possessive, slipping her way into Haruka’s mouth and sucking at Haruka’s tongue and all Haruka can do is let her, clinging tight to the wall, absolutely at Michiru’s mercy. She can feel Michiru smile right before she moves her finger down to press a slow, agonizing circle around Haruka’s clit.

Haruka can’t hold back a yelp as she forces her hips up, weirdly weightless in the water, needing more, needing it harder, needing more friction, when Michiru pulls back out and Haruka wants to scream in frustration. “Tease,” she groans.

Out of nowhere, Michiru’s hands are pressing down on her wrists, digging them into the concrete siding of the pool. It burns but the weight is Michiru’s, and the sensation is still sending little shockwaves down to her core. “What did you just call me?” Michiru asks, forcing Haruka’s wrists down just a bit more for emphasis.

“Never mind,” Haruka says quickly. “I was—I wanted—” She gives up on words in lieu of a frustrated moan, tipping her head back against the siding. She’s throbbing and desperate and Michiru is just impossibly gorgeous when she does this, when she takes control like this, and Haruka presses her thighs together in a meager attempt to get some sort of relief.

“You should stop,” Michiru purrs in Haruka’s ear, her breath sending goosebumps all the way down Haruka’s side. “If you wanted to just make yourself come, then I don’t exactly need to be here, do I?”

“No!” Haruka’s somehow shot way past the point of dignity. “Please. I want you to…”

Michiru’s eyes flash, the way they always do when Haruka’s on the verge of begging. “Don’t let go,” she says, and then her hand is back in Haruka’s shorts and touching her in a hard, fast rhythm that Haruka knows she can’t resist for long.

Haruka lets out a strangled cry and grits her teeth, well aware that there’s no way she’s going to be able to hold out, and then Michiru’s back at her neck and Haruka knows that it’s not a matter of if but when at this point.

“My soldier of the sky,” Michiru murmurs. “It’s such a change of pace to have you here in my element.”

“I’m not…good in water,” Haruka replies, having to focus to be able to get the words out as heat coils in her lower abdomen and she just needs more of Michiru, needs her deeper, needs her harder, and she slings one arm around Michiru’s neck in an attempt to draw her in.

“But you have me,” Michiru says, tugging Haruka’s hair with one hand and pulling her closer with another, sucking at the juncture of Haruka’s neck and shoulder.

“Ah—” It hurts, the pain sharp through the haze of arousal, but it’s only serving to amplify it, make it stronger, and Haruka shudders. “Michiru…”

“Yes,” Michiru whispers, grazing her teeth along the soft skin of Haruka’s neck, “as long as you have me, you have the water. You should know this. And the water isn’t going to hurt you.”

“M-Michiru,” Haruka stammers, too fuzzy and heated to get anything else out. “I…I’m…”

“Do it,” Michiru says. “I want to watch you…do you have any idea how gorgeous you are when you come for me?”

The pressure is mounting, a familiar tightness. Haruka’s getting lightheaded and Michiru’s fingers feel so good. “I’m going to,” she whimpers.

“Let me see you,” Michiru says softly, and that’s enough, that does it.

Haruka comes hard, amazed at how long it lasts, how good it feels, Michiru working her through it until she can’t take anymore and she feebly tries to twitch away. “Enough,” she manages, voice rough, feeling languid and logy.

“Look at you,” Michiru says, sounding utterly pleased. Haruka’s almost certain that Michiru’s referring to just her general state—most likely flushed, still drenched, shaky—until Michiru laughs her pleasant, light laugh. “So handsome, and so bad at following directions.”

“What…” Haruka notices, all of a sudden, that she’s managed to not only let go of the side of the pool, but to latch onto Michiru. With a sudden wave of terror, she starts, “Oh sh—”

“Don’t panic!” Michiru smiles up at her through her long eyelashes. “Besides, after that, you have to say: the water isn’t that bad after all, is it?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Ficlet 2: Colors And Promises**

**Prompts: First Times, Public Sex**

* * *

 

The first time that Michiru makes Haruka come is by accident.

It’s only been a few hours since they’ve left Tokyo, but Michiru’s already discovering a whole wealth of new knowledge about Haruka.

She’s learning how Haruka’s shoulders slope when they’re unencumbered by the weight of the world.

She’s learning the curve of Haruka’s rare genuine smile, so young and free; Michiru’s almost caught off guard by it, that Haruka even has it in her to look so happy.

She’s also learning that Haruka’s lips are soft, softer than she’d expected, and her mouth is wet and warm, and the most amazing thing is that she’spushing back. It’s not just Michiru this time, reaching out, waiting, always waiting, for Haruka. Here’s Haruka, grabbing onto Michiru, mouth quick and desperate against hers, actually wanting this, for the first time actually showing it, and Michiru can’t help but let out a small whimper.

Haruka responds with a growl low in her throat and grabs onto Michiru even tighter, like she’s never going to let go, and for all Michiru knows, hell, she really might not.

So Michiru’s willing to make sure she doesn’t.

When Michiru swings her body around, presses Haruka back against the leather seat of the car, and all but straddles Haruka, the look on her face is enough to make Michiru feel like the queen of the fucking galaxy.  _“Michiru,”_ Haruka says, shaky, with a tremulous undercurrent in her voice that Michiru’s never heard before.

“Is this okay?” Michiru thinks to ask, because every part of her wants nothing more than to be with Haruka right now, even if ‘right now’ is in the passenger’s seat of Haruka’s car, parked by the ocean just hours after leaving Tokyo. But she knows Haruka, knows how skittish Haruka can get sometimes when it comes to feelings and emotions, and the last thing that she wants to do right now is scare Haruka away again

But this time, it’s different. Michiru doesn’t have to worry. “Yes,” Haruka forces the word out, like it’s the world’s biggest chore to have to focus on speaking over sensation. “You can…”

“Good,” Michiru cuts her off, seeing that Haruka’s starting to flounder. She takes a deep breath, debating exactly how much she wants to say. She settles for nuzzling the juncture of Haruka’s shoulder and neck, brushing her lips across the soft skin before attempting an experimental nip.

Haruka jerks up sharply, sucking in a deep breath, and Michiru pulls back. “Okay?” she whispers, not wanting to take it too far, not wanting to push things.

“Okay,” Haruka says immediately, and she actually tangles her hand in Michiru’s hair, tugs her back down. “If you want…”

Michiru’s back on her in an instant, moments away from throwing any view of decorum completely out the window, because it’s Haruka, Haruka pulling her closer, wanting her, and this is everything Michiru’s wanted—needed—for years. “Haruka,” she murmurs, lathing her tongue across Haruka’s collarbone, trailing up her neck, nibbling lightly at her earlobe, relishing the way that Haruka’s absolutely writhing beneath her with every movement. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to do this?”

“How long?” Haruka says, voice pitched lower and huskier than Michiru’s ever heard it before.

“So long.” Michiru nudges at Haruka’s shoulder, gets her to let go of Michiru, rewards her by working on her neck a bit more, and hey, that’s another new thing—Haruka apparently has the most sensitive neck in the solar system, judging by the way she’s gasping and twitching with every move Michiru makes. “I used to dream about you,” she says before she even knows the words are out, and she swallows hard, trying to keep any other traitorous secrets from pouring out.

“What were the dreams like?” Haruka asks.

“All of them were certainly good. I used to dream about having you just like this”—in a fluid motion, Michiru snatches Haruka’s wrists, pins them above Haruka’s head back against the seat, and slips her knee between Haruka’s thighs, pressing up against Haruka—”and making you mine.”

“Oh,” Haruka gasps. Red blooms bright around her cheekbones, but that doesn’t stop her from grinding herself up against Michiru’s knee. She’s starting to sweat a bit around her hairline and she’s rapidly on the way to becoming an utter mess. As heat twines itself in Michiru’s stomach at the sight, all she wants is to watch Haruka unravel.

“I dreamed about the world knowing you were mine,” she whispers in Haruka’s ear, punctuating the words by latching onto Haruka’s neck, sucking hard on the pale skin.

Haruka whines, bucking her hips up into Michiru. “I…I want to be yours,” she manages. Even through Haruka’s pants, Michiru feels the heat radiating outward and shivers, swiping her lips across the mark she’s left on Haruka’s neck. The bruise is gorgeous purple, will probably fade in a matter of hours with senshi healing, but the knowledge doesn’t stop the thrill from running though Michiru at the sight of it, knowing that it was her, that  _she did that_ , and that Haruka wants it, and that Haruka wants to be hers.

“You are mine,” she whispers. “Of course you are. You always were, you know.”

“Say that again,” Haruka breathes.

Michiru nips at Haruka’s neck again just to make her jump. “You’ve always been mine,” she repeats. The words sound so right, so true, rolling off her tongue.

Haruka crashes her head back against the seat at the sensation, bracing herself to the best of her abilities. “I thought about you too,” she says.

“Did you?” Michiru isn’t surprised, exactly—perhaps a bit surprised that Haruka came out and admitted it. For her trouble, Haruka is rewarded by a slow, deep, openmouthed kiss. Michiru slides her knee even further against Haruka, who twitches, whines, moves back against it in a quick, rough rhythm.

“I never thought we would…” Haruka trails off and closes her eyes, biting her lip.

“We are,” Michiru murmurs in Haruka’s ear. “We are, and we will. You’re mine. I’m going to show you, Haruka.” Michiru can feel herself starting to lose control, starting to slip, but she can’t hold back the words anymore. Not with Haruka beneath her, not with Haruka here, not when finally,  _finally_ _,_ it’s happening. “I can’t wait to show you how much you mean to me,” she whispers, rocking her knee to meet Haruka’s thrusts. “You’ve always meant so much. You know I…you know I’d do anything for you. You’re all that I want, Haruka, you’re all that I need, and I’ll always—”

Haruka cries out suddenly, sharp, jerks beneath Michiru, shudders against her, whimpers, “Ah—Michiru…”

Michiru pulls back, gives Haruka a slightly incredulous onceover. “Did you…” she begins.

Haruka clears her throat. She’s blushing, and her lips are parted, and she’s looking up at Michiru like she’s some goddess of beauty and destruction about to wreak havoc on her, and that look… “I…I didn’t mean to…” Haruka begins.

Michiru may have just spent the last two years of her life fighting evil and saving the world, but the fact is, she’s still a teenager, and she still thinks Haruka is the most attractive human who’s ever walked the earth, and she’s just gotten Haruka off by barely even touching her, and the power is rushing through Michiru, a thick, heady cocktail, and Michiru’s completely and utterly ready to  _do_  something about it.

“Backseat,” she gasps, tugging at Haruka’s shirt.

The first time that Haruka makes Michiru come follows shortly after.

It is most definitely not an accident.


	3. Chapter 3

**Ficlet 3: Up On You**

**Prompt: Oral sex with a strap on**

* * *

So Haruka has a bit of a thing for packing when she goes to the racetrack, and maybe it's something about the almost tangible machismo or testosterone in the air, or maybe it's the way that the heaviness of her cock between her legs, the solidness, sends a little extra spark down her spine every time she moves, but no matter what's behind it, the fact is that her laps are solid seconds better with it than without it and she isn't one to jinx things.

It’s not always an entirely sexual thing--the greasy, sweaty guys on her team wouldn’t ever particularly be her type even if she was interested. It’s just a little bit extra, that bit of weight and presence that grounds her head and hones in her focus.

Then again, though, there’s also the fact that she's kind of been wanting to experiment like this forever, and now, considering the way that Michiru's reacted, and actually getting to fuck Michiru--as in, fuck Michiru with her cock--has been one of the most amazing experiences of Haruka's life.

When Michiru catches her on the way out the door, on the way to the track, slides her hand down to squeeze the firmness between Haruka’s legs, and whispers, “There’s something I want to try when you get home,” well...it’s kind of a miracle that Haruka can focus on anything at all, much less win.

That’s on top of what packing already does to her even in normal circumstances.  It always makes her sharper, rougher around the edges, desperate and raw, and she’s already on fire by the time she actually makes it home--

\--only to be greeted by Michiru pushing her up against the door almost as soon as it closes. “Have you been thinking about what I said?” she breathes, splaying her fingers across Haruka’s stomach, and Haruka’s nodding, already agreeing, almost before Michiru’s even done with the sentence. The thing about Haruka is that she’s willing to do almost anything as long as she’s in the right mindset, and she knows that Michiru’s well aware that after a long day apart, after packing all day, Haruka’s never going to be able to resist her.

Michiru kisses her, tongue sliding into Haruka’s mouth and sliding her hand down between them to palm Haruka’s cock, and Haruka’s already squirming; she’s been on edge all day and she’s hard almost instantly, thanking her lucky stars that somehow she’s wound up with such an amazing girlfriend, and it’s all she can do to gasp out, “What do you want to do?”

Michiru cups the side of Haruka’s face, brushes her thumb across Haruka’s lips. “Do you trust me?”

The words come out without Haruka even having to think. “I do. More than anything.”

“So then,” Michiru murmurs, brushing her lips across Haruka’s cheek, “let me do this.”

Michiru reaches down and yanks Haruka’s shirt untucked, slipping her hand up her shirt for skin on skin contact. When Michiru’s fingertips brush against the bottom of the bandages, her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re binding?”

Haruka feels herself blush--even though Michiru’s well aware of her habits, she still gets a little worried about it, still a bit self-conscious, and yeah, a sports bra probably would do a satisfactory job when she’s racing, but it’s just something about the bandage, actually flattening her chest, gives her that edge. “Racing day,” is all she says.

Michiru’s eyes flash, and she bites her lip. “Oh,” she says thickly, and crashes her lips against Haruka’s.

It takes Haruka’s breath away, but even that only adds to the intense buildup running through her body, and then Michiru trails her lips down Haruka’s jawline and kisses her neck and Haruka’s never been able to resist that. And she keeps going, and her other hand is somewhere around the small of Haruka’s back, and then she swivels her hips and grinds up against the hardness in Haruka’s pants and this level of hotness should probably be illegal, Haruka thinks, which is one of the last things she’s able to think coherently as a shockwave of pleasure spirals through her body.

Haruka’s hand reaches down almost on its own volition to grope the obscene bulge in her pants. But before she really can do anything can really get any relief, Michiru moves too, grabbing the wandering wrist and Haruka’s other hand and pinning both against the wall, leaning in. "You said that you trust me to do this for you, didn’t you?” Michiru's breath sends tingles down Haruka’s spine and she shivers. At the delay in response, Michiru nips at Haruka's neck and she has to bite her lip to hold back a moan. “Tell me, Haruka. Who’s the one in charge here?”

“You are.” Haruka’s voice comes out in a pathetic whimper.

Michiru grins and kisses Haruka so deeply her knees go weak, grinding her hips against Haruka’s cock. Somewhere she lets go of Haruka’s wrists to pull her closer and suck hard at her neck, and Haruka grabs at Michiru’s back, digging in so hard that she expects her to do something about it. But Michiru just pulls back, tracing Haruka’s collarbone with her finger. “You’re going to have to wear scarves for the next few days, Haruka.”

Haruka tips her head back against the wall. “Keep going.”

“Keep going?” Michiru makes a couple of especially hard thrusts against Haruka, sending sensation shooting through her with each touch. “I’ve made you come in your pants before,” she purrs, nipping at Haruka’s neck, “but I don’t want to do that right now.”

“Why?” Haruka moans.

“One, because you haven’t waited nearly long enough, and two, you’re much too fun.” With that, Michiru sinks to her knees and pushes Haruka’s shirt up and out of the way.

Holy. God.

Haruka’s brain nearly shortcircuits.

Michiru Kaioh, on her knees.

Michiru Kaioh, on her knees, for her.

All Haruka can do is stare.

Michiru traces her tongue down Haruka's abs and places a soft kiss to Haruka’s lower abdomen, lathes her tongue across Haruka’s hipbone, Haruka rocking back and gasping, and Michiru whispers, “Look at me. I want you to watch.”

Haruka looks down. Michiru gives her a sharp smile and delicately traces her tongue across the ridge of Haruka’s cock, grabs Haruka’s cock through her pants, the touch so sudden and welcome that Haruka jerks up and moans sharply.

“That’s very attractive when you do that.” Michiru grins lazily and rests her head against Haruka’s stomach, her curls soft against the bare skin. “Should I keep doing this?”

Haruka nods frantically and Michiru easily curls her fingers around the shaft, slowly jacking her off through the fabric. “You’re big, you know,” she says coyly.

Some small part of Haruka’s brain is trying to insist that this is weird, _still_ trying to insist this is weird, even after all this time, but every other part of her body is more focused on the fact that the most beautiful woman she’s ever met is currently jacking off her cock and that’s enough to send small explosions of heat rippling through her body with every touch. It makes sense, anyway. Yeah, she probably would be hung, and she is, and Michiru fucking loves her for it, and it’s right.

She’s trying hard to hold back, but can’t help a whimper. Michiru responds by speeding up a bit, before finally dropping her hand and it’s like being pushed off of a cliff, Haruka’s throbbing and hard and twitching and then there’s nothing there and she grits her teeth.

But then Michiru tugs at Haruka’s belt. “Haruka,” she says. “No, look at me. Thank you.”

Michiru traces the waistband of Haruka’s boxers with her tongue as she slowly unzips Haruka’s pants, and Haruka is _shaking_. “I’m going to suck you," she whispers, and that's it, Haruka's brain has officially switched off from desire and shock and lust. She thumps back against the wall with a strangled gasp, running a hand through her hair as she stares down. When she sees, Michiru smiles. "Look at you. I haven't even gotten you out of your pants yet."

Haruka clenches a fist and slams it back against the wall in a fit of desperate frustration. _"Michiru,"_ is all she can manage, her whole body quivering for the touch.

Michiru raises an eyebrow up at her, pulling Haruka's cock from her boxers, making sure to press the base against Haruka, and delicately tongues around the slit.

"Oh," Haruka gasps, utterly unable to pull her eyes away from Michiru circling the head and taking her tongue and licking a thick wet stripe down the shaft, raking her nails gently across the backs of Haruka’s thighs and tugging her forward.

 And then she actually takes several inches into her mouth.

Haruka chokes, a fuzzy wave of heat slamming through her chest. And it’s almost like she can actually feel the wetness of Michiru’s tongue, the warmth of her mouth, and she's basically getting blown by Michiru and it's something she was never even expecting, but it's this amazing power trip that’s rapidly eroding any hope she has of maintaining some sort of composure.

Michiru pulls off with a dull pop, then moves it back in again, her eyes locked on Haruka's and sparkling. "Do you like this?" Haruka gasps.

Michiru pulls her mouth away, keeping up with her hand for the stimulation, and smirks up at her. "My, Haruka. Are you trying to dirty talk me?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Thinking has become considerably more challenging. “W-why did you want to…”

Michiru gives a soft, light laugh. "Well, I'll tell you that it certainly seems like _you_ are enjoying this. And Haruka...do you really need to ask?" She takes Haruka back in her mouth again, even a bit deeper this time. And it's just…

The imagery. Her cock sliding over Michiru's perfect painted red lips. It's so at odds with how Michiru is normally, the image that she presents to the world, the image that she actually is, even, this brilliant pristine untouchable goddess. But only Haruka knows that Michiru is a brilliant pristine goddess who also really really likes to fuck her girlfriend.

And it's so hot. _Michiru_ is so hot.

Haruka wants to smear Michiru's lipstick. She wants to tangle Michiru's hair and shove herself forward but she settles for slowly, hesitantly, placing one hand at the back of Michiru’s head. Michiru nods, fast, around the cock in her mouth, reaches her hand behind herself to hold Haruka’s hand in place and Haruka shivers, fights the urge to buck her hips up into Michiru and lets Michiru take several more inches into her mouth at her own pace and she looks so good like this, Michiru Kaioh down on her knees sucking cock.

And this bolt of electricity pulses through Haruka, makes her twitch her hips and whine, watching her cock slide in and out of Michiru’s mouth in a quick, smooth rhythm. Michiru's gazing up at her with big blue eyes the whole time, finally allowing herself a small moan and the vibrations travel straight to Haruka’s core and she can’t help herself, can’t help tugging Michiru forward just a bit more to get it deeper. Which is when she takes it a bit too far.

Michiru coughs, sputters, pulls back off the cock, her lips shiny bright red, a small trail of thick saliva from the back of her throat connecting her mouth and the tip of Haruka’s cock, and Haruka pulses, has to clench hard to not come right then and there at the sight of it. “Are you okay?” she manages to ask, her own voice echoing and distant in her ears.

Michiru licks her lips, fighting to catch her breath, and curls her fingers around the base of Haruka’s cock. It’s soaked and spit-slick and has all the lubrication it needs as she slides her hand in short, choppy strokes, and Haruka’s losing her breath all over again when Michiru glances up through half-lidded eyes. “More than okay,” she rasps, a hint of roughness in her voice, “you can move if you want to,” and she takes Haruka back in again, almost all the way down to the hilt in one fluid motion and how the hell can she do that so easily already?

It’s not like Haruka can feel it, but she can _feel_ it, Michiru’s soft mouth around her, and she’s starting to get close already. She takes one unsteady hand, moves it to trace Michiru’s jawline, cup her cheek. Michiru shivers, gives her this look that’s half-love and half-lust and Haruka moves, like Michiru said, almost on instinct thrusting forward into Michiru’s mouth, her other hand moving to the back of Michiru’s head and pulling her up, onto her cock.

Haruka actually feels her cock hit the back of Michiru’s throat. Michiru tenses and chokes again, digs her fingernails into Haruka’s thighs and Haruka’s about to pull out before Michiru _moans,_ honest to god, her eyelashes fluttering and one hand slipping between her legs and past her skirt, touching herself to almost as fast a rhythm as she’s allowing Haruka to move in and out of her mouth with those soft, strangled, gasping breaths while Haruka fucks her throat.

Haruka’s seeing stars. She’s shaking, the backs of her knees are sweating, and there’s no way in hell she’s going to be able to hold it together, not like this, and she’s coming almost before she knows it, caught off guard, as it slams into her and whacks her upside the head and sends her into a ridiculous daze, draining all of the pent-up tension and energy from her as she half-collapses against the wall.

Dimly, she registers Michiru slipping her cock out of her mouth, but the only thing that cuts through her daze is a small mewl from below her, and she looks down. Michiru’s face is flushed and she’s biting her lip and she murmurs, looking up from beneath her eyelashes, looking almost shy, of all things, after that, “Was that...all right?”

Haruka almost laughs. All _right_? Calling that just ‘all right’ would be easily one of the biggest understatements of the year, because Haruka’s still coming down, she still can hardly feel her legs after that, and Michiru is pretty much the most perfect human who ever existed.

“You are amazing,” Haruka murmurs quietly, heart overfull with love.

Michiru smiles and pulls herself up. She tries to hide a wince as she stands, and it occurs to Haruka, a little belatedly, that the hardwood floor of their foyer is probably not that great on the knees. But it doesn’t particularly seem to matter, as Michiru presses her body up against Haruka’s and asks, “Have you been wanting that as much as I have?”

“I never knew if you’d want to,” Haruka murmurs.

“If only you knew,” Michiru whispers, “how often I’ve been thinking about having you in my mouth.” She traces a gentle pattern on Haruka’s stomach. “Or how often I’ve wanted you to come down my throat."

Haruka lets out a frustrated whine, because it’s utterly unfair that Michiru can be this attractive all the time.

“Or,” Michiru continues, grabbing Haruka’s hand and sliding it down her skirt, “you could feel for yourself--”

“Oh,” Haruka gasps. Michiru’s drenched, so wet for her.

Michiru bites her lip. “You need to do something about this. _Please,_ ” she whispers, and Michiru begging this early in the night is enough to make Haruka half-hard all over again.

“You deserve the world, Michi,” Haruka murmurs, circling Michiru’s clit and relishing the way Michiru writhes at the sensation.

“Or you could just _fuck me, Haruka,”_ Michiru responds, her impatience nowhere as faux as she’s trying to portray.

Haruka grins. “At least let’s go to the bedroom.”

Michiru rolls her eyes. “Details,” she says, but she extends her hand and allows herself to be led to the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ficlet 4: Hook and Line**

  
**Prompt: Bondage**

* * *

 

Somehow Haruka’s smirking, gazing at Michiru with her trademark bravado. “You seem distracted,” she says. “It’s almost as if you find me attractive.”

Michiru curses internally, realizing that she’s been caught staring, and instead lets a deceptively sweet smile play across her lips. “Rather cocky considering your current position, wouldn’t you say, Haruka?”

Haruka’s grin doesn’t budge an inch. She stretches beneath Michiru, wriggles her wrists experimentally, but the bindings hold tight, just as Michiru knew they would. And if Haruka knows that she’s staring anyway, then fine, Michiru will stare.

Haruka is absolutely gorgeous, all flawless skin and taut muscle and flashing dark blue eyes.

The problem is, of course, Haruka is all too aware of this.

“You’re very clothed right now,” Haruka says, breaking the interlude. “Don’t you think I’d enjoy the sight of you as much as you’re clearly enjoying the sight of me?”

Michiru raises her eyebrows, because it’s fine to let Haruka talk—Haruka tends to be massively bratty and that’s how they both like it—but there’s a limit to Michiru’s patience, and Haruka is expertly tiptoeing around that line. “Oh?” she says. “Do you really think you’re in a position to tell me what to do?” She traces her finger slowly up Haruka’s stomach, watching the goosebumps she leaves in her wake, until she reaches Haruka’s breasts. She draws a circle around one nipple, watching in satisfaction as it hardens beneath her touch and Haruka squirms.

"I’m not demanding anything," Haruka says, with, a pleased Michiru notes, a new hint of breathiness. "I just think that perhaps you could use a bit of a suggestion.”

Michiru half-laughs at Haruka’s nerve. “And I think perhaps I should get you the gag,”

Haruka’s eyes go a bit wide and her composure finally—finally, Michiru notes—starts to show the slightest hint of cracking. Her response is urgent, almost panicky: “No! You don’t need to. I’ll be good.”

Michiru nearly laughs out loud. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Haruka gazes from beneath her eyelashes. “Then maybe I need someone to make me be good?” She asks almost shyly. They haven’t been doing this for long, and sometimes it shows, but Michiru has never been one to deny Haruka for too long.

“That’s more like it,” Michiru whispers, and kisses Haruka fiercely, slipping a hand between Haruka’s legs to find her already hot and wet and wanting.

Haruka moans into the kiss, grinds her hips against Michiru, and Michiru lets herself smile, knowing that Haruka will feel it. Pleased that Haruka will feel it. As it turns out, Haruka is surprisingly easy. Over the time that they’ve spent together, Michiru’s pretty sure that she’s become the biggest tease in Japan. Haruka has a hair-trigger clit, which is absolutely amazing—having the capability to make one’s girlfriend come at will is, Michiru knows, a massive privilege. But what kind of lover would Michiru be if she just took advantage of that all of the time? No, with Haruka, the trick is not letting her get off until Michiru is good and ready for it to happen.

So Michiru’s become an expert in reading Haruka’s signs. There’s this way her nose wrinkles, and her hips twitch, and the flush that spreads across her chest. Michiru could practically write a thesis on Haruka’s impending orgasm signs. And then, well, it depends on Michiru’s mood. If she’s feeling benevolent, she’ll let Haruka come. Michiru has a running competition with herself about how many times she can make Haruka come in one night. (At this, just as with everything else, she is a prodigy.) But other nights, well… “Biggest tease in Japan” would probably be the nicest words Haruka had to say about her then.

Michiru is fairly certain that she’s going to make tonight one of those nights.

“Did you have any more suggestions?” she asks, running a finger carefully over the intricate knot of the rope and letting her other hand wander up to brush against Haruka’s clit.

Haruka whimpers and strains against the rope. “No.”

“Good,” Michiru murmurs, and leans down to kiss Haruka soundly, soothingly, a rush of anticipation bolting through her as she prepares to have what’s hers.

 


	5. Lunar Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SilMil Uranus and Neptune use their communicators for some unapproved use, as you do when you're involved in the galaxy's most depressing long distance relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for alcohol consumption, phone (sort of) sex, masturbation, dirty talk.

Uranus normally doesn’t mess with her senses. She normally doesn’t ever allow herself to let go or to forget about anything. Such is the duty of an Outer Guardian of the Solar System.

But today…

It’s her birthday, okay, and maybe it doesn’t make sense to keep track of birthdays when you’re functionally immortal, and it makes even less sense trying to figure out the equivalency of a lunar year billions of kilometers away on Uranus, but it’s one of the few little things she never let go upon taking up her post. 

And you’re supposed to spend your birthday with people you care about, but she hasn’t seen Neptune in way too long, and they’re still years away, too far out to even begin to look forward to being guaranteed to see each other at Queen Serenity’s next ball, and honestly, more than anything, Uranus is just so fucking lonely.

The long and short of it is by the time the evening’s over, she’s somehow finished an entire bottle of imported champagne with another bottle half empty in her fist and she is floating and she doesn’t  _care._ It’s one night. Just once, for one night, she’ll put her alarm systems up and she’ll rig the security trappings and maybe just once someone else in the universe can deal with these problems. 

The alcohol does its job—it makes everything hazy and warm and pleasant and takes the sting off the pangs crashing into her consciousness that would, under normal circumstances, make her feel guilty for being so self-indulgent—but it also only exacerbates the two direst needs in Uranus’ life. So by the time she stumbles back to her quarters, she misses Neptune so much that she feels like she could spontaneously burst into tears at any moment, and she’s simultaneously so horny that she’s pretty sure she’ll die if she doesn’t get off soon.

She shucks her clothes off easily and collapses into bed, watching the walls wobble around her, feeling, more than anything, the conspicuous absence next to her, regardless of the fact that she’s never even gotten to have Neptune in her bed, she can’t ever even have that. 

It’s easy enough to imagine, though.

Her bed’s right beneath the window and there’s an absolutely gorgeous view of the window (even better viewed from flat on one’s back) and Neptune would look so good, splayed out beneath her, head tossed back, pale skin stark in contrast to the navy sheets, and…

Uranus growls and buries her head in her pillow. Things like this were easier before she and Neptune threw logic and sensibility to the wind and decided to start the longest distance relationship in the whole freaking galaxy or something. Before, she would’ve just been able to face her reality. She’s stationed on her post, she’s solitary, there’s no one else around to help ease this particular ache. Before, she would have just gotten herself off and fallen asleep and that would have been that. She wouldn’t have the constant memories floating through her mind of Neptune’s soft skin, and Neptune’s touch, and the feeling of Neptune’s body pressed up against hers, and, yeah, her hand is never going to be an adequate substitute for Neptune’s  _mouth._

Her hips buck up against the bed and she groans, rolling over onto her back and letting one arm fall across her forehead. If there was only some way that she could even just talk to Neptune…

Wait.

Uranus lifts her arm and examines, through slightly wavy vision, her wrist, or, namely, the communicator that never leaves it.

Every senshi has a communicator, and every senshi has access to its uniquely encrypted network. The only person who ever really uses it, though—or at least, the only person who ever uses it to talk to Uranus—is Queen Serenity, and even then it’s only for business: if she’s gotten a tip about incoming invaders from an ally in another solar system, or to assign Uranus to easily finished jobs within their own system during otherwise slow periods.

But when Uranus racks her brain, she can’t actually remember being told at any point that the communicators should ONLY be used for senshi business. It’s assumed, she allows, but she’s fairly certain that nobody at any point explicitly took her aside and forbade her from using the communicator for more…personal gain. To be fair, Uranus is not in the best state to remember, but as she flips the communicator open, the promise of talking to Neptune, being with Neptune, getting to communicate, is strong enough to convince Uranus that forgiveness is easier than permission. She presses the button on the lower right side, scanning the airwaves, until she locks into the one she wants.

Almost shaking with anticipation, she allows her free hand to splay out across her chest and holds her other wrist close to her mouth. “Neptune. Are you there?”

Neptune—as to be expected—answers almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

Uranus marvels at just how easy this is, and wonders why this never occurred to her before. The sound of Neptune’s voice alone warms her, and she twitches happily, allowing her fingers to skim lower, across her hipbone, lower, to her stomach.  “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Uranus,” Neptune says slowly, sounding utterly confused. “Is there…something wrong?”

Her reaction makes sense. Uranus wonders for a moment what she’d think if Neptune contacted her out of the blue. It’s something they just don’t do; the distance that separates them is part of their sacred duty, and this feels almost like cheating destiny. But it’s Uranus’ birthday, and she’s still riding on the effects of the champagne, and damnit, she spends every other day of every other year of her life serving other people, and for once she should be allowed to be selfish. Now she just has to convince Neptune to do the same. “Not in the solar system,” Uranus admits. “It’s just…” She takes a deep breath, sending a silent wish for Neptune to indulge this. “What are you doing right now?”

“I was on my balcony, painting,” Neptune says, still dripping incredulity. “You sound unusual. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

“Could you go inside to your bedroom?” Uranus asks. “Somewhere out of earshot?”

There’s a pause, then a faint rustling of movement. “I’m inside. Uranus, will you tell me what is going on? Do we have business?”

“You could say that.” Uranus closes her eyes and pictures Neptune’s room, trying to set the scene. “It’s just…Neptune…are you alone?”

There’s an even longer pause. Then Neptune says, finally, “Oh. You said you miss me? I see.”

Uranus presses on. “Are you alone right now?”

“You’ve been drinking, haven’t you, Uranus? You’d never do this over the communicator.” Neptune’s obviously going for a chiding tone, but she sounds nowhere near as resolute as she probably thinks she does. Uranus lets herself grin with a bit of disbelief because hell, she might actually get this.

“I mean, we have these communicators for a reason, right? To talk to each other?” Uranus says.

“On business, yes. But I do suppose…you are my business.”

There’s a long pause. Uranus half wonders if they’ve somehow lost the signal connecting them until Neptune speaks again. She purrs—actually purrs—“So tradition demands I ask: what are you wearing, Uranus?”

“What?!” Uranus chokes.

“Oh, is the line breaking up?” Neptune says sweetly.

“N-no!” Uranus blurts, heat surging through her body.

“So?”

Uranus is blushing, self conscious even though Neptune can’t see her. “Well…um…I’m not actually wearing anything.”

“You went to all the risk of contacting me and you skipped through one of the best parts? How disappointing,” Neptune chides gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure I’ll find some way for you to make it up to me later.”

Just the thought of later is enough to send Uranus spiraling off, a stab of desperation making her dizzy. “Neptune…”

Uranus swears she hears Neptune’s breath catch. “I love the way you sound,” she murmurs, “say it again.” 

Uranus bites her lip and dips her hand the rest of the way down. Her thighs are already shaking as she brushes against herself, the word all but wrenched out of her: “Neptune—“

“Stop touching yourself.” 

Neptune’s voice snaps, cold, and Uranus wrenches her hand away. “What did I—“

“You want me there with you?”

“More than anything,” Uranus breathes

“Then act as if I could be there,” Neptune says. “I certainly wouldn’t touch you so soon, would I? I can’t exactly tease you like this, so you’re going to have to improvise—but don’t you dare touch yourself before I say, and anything beyond that is out of the question do you understand?” 

Uranus presses her thighs together in a woefully misaimed attempt to quell the throbbing between her legs at Neptune’s command. She’s wet already, can feel it on her thighs, all but living and dying on Neptune’s words. “I understand,” she manages. 

“Good.” There’s a brief moment of rustling, then Neptune continues. “If I were beside you right now, what would you want me to do with you?”

“Um,” Uranus says. She’s already not the greatest at expressing her feelings, and for the first time, it’s occurring to her that there’s a bit of a communication barrier here. But the novelty, the excitement, and, for what it’s worth, the love, all prevail, and she starts again. “I wish you could kiss me.” Neptune doesn’t say anything for a few beats. “Are you there?” Uranus asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Neptune says quickly, “no. You’re absolutely fine, Uranus. I want that too. If I could be there, I’d love to kiss you. I’d pin your wrists down so you wouldn’t have to worry about moving, and I’d slip my knee between your legs so you could move against me just in the slightest—just enough for you to feel it, barely enough for you to be able to use it to your advantage—and I’d kiss your neck and mark you, so anyone who sees you could know you’re mine.” 

“O-oh,” Uranus stammers, casually locking both hands behind her head just to make sure she’ll be able to resist this. “How did you get so good at this?” 

“What do you imagine I think about, alone here in between missions?” Neptune asks. 

And it’s still novel, still hard to believe. “You think about me?” 

“Do you think about me?”

“Of course,” Uranus says, the words spilling out, they can’t come quickly enough for her to fully assure Neptune just how much she means to her. 

“What would you have done, if talking to me hadn’t occurred to you tonight?”

“Neptune—“

“Left all alone, in such a state?”

“I-I…I…probably would’ve just gotten myself off,” Uranus mumbles quickly, her entire face aflame. 

“Would you have gone quickly? Or slowly? What would you have thought about?” 

Uranus takes a deep breath. “I would’ve thought about you. I wish I could…um…fuck you?” With Neptune’s small intake of breath on the other side of the line, Uranus plows on. “Or, or I wish you could…I really like…your mouth… I’d have gone fast, and not even a choice, I’m about to… Neptune, please, I need to come.”

“Imagine me there,” Neptune says, “imagine the last time I was with you. I was between your legs and you were sprawled out, just like this, in front of me. I had bound your wrists to the headboard with your tie—“

Uranus whimpers at the memory, so frustrated and so impatient and so in love. 

“—and you could barely move. You were begging me, Uranus, you were on the verge of tears—remember how I stroked my way up your legs? Touch your thigh for me, Uranus. Slowly, as if I happened to be doing it.”

Uranus ghosts her fingertips across her thigh, nearly every nerve ending in her body screaming, and she presses herself down against the mattress, flat, trying to calm her racing heart. “You took so long.”

“I wished I could kiss every inch of you, Uranus. If I could, I would.” Neptune pauses, takes a deep breath, and goes on. “Tell me. Would you be ready for me to lick you right now?”

“Yes,” Uranus gasps, “yes, please, Neptune, please let me, I—“

“Do it,” Neptune says, and Uranus’ hand all but shoots up. 

As soon as Uranus barely brushes against her clit, she lets out a sharp, strangled moan. She’s so hot and slick she can barely get purchase and she whimpers. “I miss you so much,” she gasps. 

“Move for me,” Neptune commands. “Move your hips—you always want me to be closer, even when I’m as close as I feel I can go, you’re always forcing yourself up, tugging me down, you always want me closer. Uranus—“

Even through the dual hazes of alcohol and lust, something in Neptune’s tone catches Uranus, finally. “Wait. Are you—“

“I’m so wet for you,” Neptune gasps, finally breaking, finally lapsing into vulgarity, and it never fails, it gets Uranus every time. “I want to be between your legs. I’d stroke myself, I wouldn’t let you come until I come, but it would be fast, Uranus, I can’t stand this—“

Uranus is moving fast, now, a hurried, choppy rhythm, and she can barely trust herself to talk, but she manages, “I want you here, Neptune—“

Neptune moans, low in her throat. “To hell with teasing. Come for me, Uranus. I want to hear it. I want to hear just how much you miss me.” 

It’s all Uranus needs—she’s been on edge all night and now with the permission, it’s only a few moments before she’s coming hard all over her hand, arcing up against her bed, crying out Neptune’s name, whimpering with every aftershock rocking through her body until she can barely hear anything, her senses numbed. 

She’s not sure how long she stays there, in suspended motion, eyes closed, drifting, but then she hears Neptune on the other end of the communicator, sighing low and satisfied. “Happy birthday, Uranus.”

Her eyes flicker open and she gazes at her communicator, even though there’s nothing to see. “You remembered?”

Neptune breathes in, then out. Finally, she says, “It’s a small kindness compared to the list of things I would do for you.” 

The words lodge in Uranus’ brain and she wants to say more, wants to probe, but she’s tired and drunk and languid in her afterglow and before she knows it, she’s slipping under.

* * *

Uranus wakes up with a pounding headache and sticky thighs and about twenty “urgent” messages from Queen Serenity on her dashboard about “protocol” and “social norms.”

She ignores them all, forces the emptiness down, and goes back to work. 


End file.
